30 Days of Hermione Granger
by Mycroft-mione
Summary: Each day brings a new Hermione pairing. Feel free to suggest future pairings! [1] Regulus [2] Remus [3] Harry [4] Sirius [5] Luna [6] Neville [7] James [8] Ron [9] Theo [10] Draco [11] OC [12] Lee [13] Fred and George [14] Ginny [15] Blaise [16] Fleur [17] Cedric [18] Lily
1. HermioneRegulus

[This is a 30-day collection full of Hermione pairings. I'm starting about one-third of the way into December, so I expect this collection to last into January. But my goal is to post one drabble/oneshot per day. We'll see how it goes...]

Day 1: Grab the first random book that you can find and copy down the last sentence of the story and use it as the first line of your story.

* * *

 **1**

 **Hermione/Regulus**

 **"Words"**

* * *

 _I love you. Remember. They cannot take it._

I open my eyes with those words still bouncing around my head, as if they had been planted there and left to sprout overnight. I can immediately tell that my brain has been reliving the events that _he_ caused not long ago. Although, now that I gaze into the looking-glass and see the dark circles under my eyes, I have some doubts that I've really slept at all this past week.

Hands roam across a nightstand, and feet slip into ill-fitting slippers that they know are unecessary; the heat is cranked up to the highest setting possible. But I am a creature of habit, and habits there shall be, until the day I die.

First, coffee.

I am in a daze as I measure spoonfuls of the ground black stuff and dump them into the machine. Regulus was always a culinary snob, but I liked that. Three months of my life with him changed every notion I had about food and drink since I was born. Even now, I'm stuck in my ways, and don't dare reach for the Splenda packets when my cup is full of a steaming drink. That isn't the way _he_ would have done it.

It occurs to me that these everyday things, these routines that keep me sane, are not courses of action. They do not lead me to the man that left me behind because he was afraid. Perhaps I am only wasting time as I wrestle with the conversations we had and promises we made together, words that blew away in the wind the moment he was gone.

By now, my cup is empty, and I'm too tired to make more. This, I realize, is how my days slip away. They start out with trepidation, and end with a resounding feeling of failure when I come home alone. Again.

Somehow, somewhere, I'm going to find him.

* * *

 _I love you. Remember. They cannot take it._

You know, I meant those words. I meant them just as much as the first and fiftieth times I told Hermione that I loved her, and the other parts just the same. But there was no time to explain, or right the wrongs that were beyond my understanding.

How do you explain that you aren't star-crossed lovers?

Or, actually, how do you tell someone that you are?

Our families aren't alike in dignity, unfortunately, but it's true that they're not good matches. I knew from the start; I was just too weak to act. In the first days of something, you don't tell a girl that everything you love about her incites hate from your mother. You don't tell her about the multiple violent felonies your cousin committed.

I regret those words with every bit of my soul, and it doesn't matter. It couldn't matter less. Because she's gone, far away, beyond imagining. She's in another world. That's what I tell myself every day, and that is how I live - in constant mourning for the woman I've lost.

Today, I sit alone in a café, scanning the headlines, and sitting upright whenever a brunette walks by.

It's never her.

* * *

 _I love you. Remember. They cannot take it._

I can't help it; those words are still on the tip of my tongue whenever I speak. It's Saturday, so I'm free from work, and I say them to myself as I walk down random streets, heading nowhere. I'm letting the city wash over me in hopes of finding some clue, some insight as to how I will win my boyfriend back. Each whisper encourages me to keep going, keep looking.

But I'm losing daylight, and warmth. So I round a corner on a familiar street, slip inside an old favorite coffee shop, and seat myself at an inconspicuous table for two.

The waitress forcibly introduces me to a glass of water before turning on her heel and hurrying back to the kitchens. I pause for effect, then drink.

It's incredible how different these places are when you're by yourself. He and I used to come here for quick breakfasts on weekdays, or laugh at friends during the informal karaoke nights. He would point at the specials, and suggest we try them. I was never brave enough. I'm a toast-and-tea kind of girl.

So I order a sandwich, eat it, and spend an hour scrolling mindlessly on my phone, making a concerted effort to avoid snapshots of he and I - back when things were happy, and easy.

I'm searching for the waitress again, about to ask for the check, when my eyes skip over somebody across the room, and then jump back to the man's side profile.

"Regulus," I say, too loudly. The people in between us turn their heads in surprise, but I have eyes only for him. He's staring at me in shock, having heard my exclamation.

I can't make my legs move, and upon further thought I'm almost glad of it. This isn't how I was supposed to find him. Not here, not now. He told me I would never see him again, and I began to believe it.

As I sit there, helpless, he has made his way over to me, abandoning his chair and food.

"Hermione," he says, and it sounds like an apology. But I say nothing. "Hermione, I can explain."

How? How can he possibly explain _this_?

I've been imagining this moment for days, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he's not the man I thought he was.

"You broke up with me by text," I force out. "You said there was nothing you could do, that something had happened, and we could never see each other again."

He looks like he's about to jump into some long explanation, but I cut him off. "But here you are, lounging here and having a wonderful time, I bet. So what could you _possibly_ have to say?"

"I'm sorry. That's the very first thing I want to say." He looks at me with those soft, clear eyes, those eyes that I know so well.

I have no choice but to stop, and give him a chance.

"I wanted to stay with you. You know that I did." He corrects himself. "That I do."

"I don't know anything. I miss you, Reg, but I miss the old you, the person who I loved and who loved me back. But if you really cared, you wouldn't have-" I gesture vaguely. "-wouldn't have done this."

"They threatened to cut me off, Hermione. It was stupid of me, I know, but I told them about you. I was tired of keeping you a secret."

"What do you mean, they?"

He closes his eyes. "My parents."

A beat of silence.

"You never let me meet your family," I whisper.

"They're..." he begins, then cuts off. "They're very strict. And apparently, they get to decide who I can be with. They... didn't react well to hearing I was involved with someone less wealthy than I am."

"That's not fair-"

"I _know_ it's not, and I don't think that way," he says, running a hand through his hair. "But my mother, particularly, took it badly. And she swore on the House of Black that I would never see you again. They've been trying for days to keep me locked in their mansion, the place I grew up."

"The House of Black?"

He rolls his eyes. "We're an old family. It doesn't matter."

"Oh." I bite my lip, and take a deep breath. Finally, I'm beginning to understand what really happened that day, and I know that all my worrying has been for nothing. I did nothing wrong- and, come to think of it, neither did he.

"Hermione?"

"I called you, that night. I got a busy signal dozens of times, but I kept trying. I left messages everywhere, but you never picked up."

Regulus lets out a laugh, then slaps a hand across his mouth, but it doesn't completely cover up the sound. "I'm sorry. I-I dropped it in a public toilet."

" _Really_?"

He nods, and I can't help it; I start laughing as loud as him. The waitress is staring - the people are staring - the passers by occasionally take note, since I'm facing the window and my face is red. But somehow, all the anger, fear, and sadness I've built up the past week evapor ate, and all I can do is laugh.

We talk for two hours, until the owner kicks us out.

I offer to let him stay at my place.

We find a shirt of his in my closet, and some old sweatpants that drown me, and he sleeps on the couch - per his own suggestion.

The next morning, I wake up with my mind blissfully silent.


	2. HermioneRemus

Day 2: Write about a character who has lost something.

* * *

 **2**

 **Hermione/Remus**

 **"Thievery"**

* * *

"Hermione?"

A muffled cry sounded from downstairs.

"What is it?" she called, not wanting to lose her place in the novel she was reading.

"It's important!"

Sighing, Hermione put down her book, marking her place, and made her way to the kitchen, where she'd heard Remus calling her before. "What wrong?"

His face was tight, panicked, and Hermione's heart sank in her chest. "What is it?" she repeated, now worried.

"I've lost it- somewhere-"

Remus turned back to the cabinet that he appeared to have been searching. Mugs were scattered across the counter, and a pile of dishes ware was haphazardly stacked on the very edge. Hermione immediately grabbed the stack and brought it to her own counter, far away from the disaster zone her husband had created.

"What did you lose?" she pressed. "Maybe I know where it is."

Remus slowed his searching. "Maybe you do..." He walked towards her, eyes narrowing, but she fended off the attack with a giggle, causing him to slump into a chair in defeat.

"Oh, shut up. Now, I now what it is. Only one thing makes you this crazy."

He nodded sheepishly. "My chocolate is gone."

"Well," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek, "I certainly didn't take your chocolate."

"But you know something," he pressed. "Hermione, please!"

She laughed. "There may have been a visiter yesterday. I may have let him into the kitchen with the impression that he was getting himself a glass of water..."

Remus stood bolt upright, fists clenched by his sides. " _Sirius_!"

"I'll buy you some more chocolate," she said, trying to placate him. "Don't get into anything with Sirius."

He wasn't listening, heading out of the room with his wand pointed away from him. "This has happened too many times. For once, I'm going to strike back."

"Remus, no!"

There was no answer.

" _Remus_!"


	3. HermioneHarry

Day 3: Write about a character that keeps making things worse.

* * *

 **3**

 **Harry/Hermione**

 **"Hogsmeade"**

* * *

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around his body, hurrying towards the castle. Having just visited Hagrid, and politely sampled his rock cakes, he had an urgent need to put some real food in his stomach. After lunch, there might be time to shop for Christmas presents in Hogsmeade - if all the stores weren't sold out by then. Hagrid hadn't yet discovered brevity.

Dozens of students passed by as he walked along the bridge, gazing out at the grounds, deep in thought. Harry heard giggling, and caught Parvarti's eye before quickly glancing away. Playfully pushing away Dean's roaming hands, she choked out a "Hi, Harry!" before breaking out into laughter again.

Harry didn't mind; he hadn't really liked her since the Yule Ball of fourth year, but he still felt a pang in his chest. Everyone in his year seemed to be pairing up for the winter - and there was him, all alone.

Finally, he reached Gryffindor tower.

"You staying over for Christmas, Harry?" Neville asked, looking up at him from a chair by the fire.

"Yeah," he said. "But I've got to go. See you later, I guess?"

"Oh, I can't go to the village, actually. Gran sent me a letter and-"

"Yeah, sorry, I can't talk now," Harry lied, closing the portrait hole behind him. It wasn't rude; he was _starved_.

He left the common room, walking purposefully down the corridor. Still somehow winded from breathing the cold outside-air, he slowed down, mind elsewhere. _I wonder if Hagrid will grow giant Christmas trees for decoration this year..._

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice appeared behind him, and he turned around. "Oh, hey, Hermione."

She glanced at his cloak, then peered at his face. "Your nose is red."

"Oh, I was out-"

She blushed. "Yeah, of course. I don't know why I said that; it was obvious."

Vaguely wondering why she was acting so strange, he shrugged. "So what did you want to say?"

Harry turned his body towards the end of the corridor, intending to walk-and-talk, but Hermione grabbed his shoulder, keeping him in place.

"I wanted to ask you something, actually."

He stared. "How can you have a homework question? Term's nearly over!" It was meant to be a joke, but she just smiled nervously, showing her teeth.

"I was wondering... well..."

He waited.

"Harry, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

He blinked. "Sure, I'll find Ron, get something to eat, and then we can go."

Hermione's face fell, and she looked away. "I'm not talking about asking Ron."

"What?" He pushed up his glasses. "So you don't want to go, then?"

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes were red, and she was hurrying away from him. "You're so stupid."

Harry stood there like a deer in the headlights, wondering what he had possibly done wrong. Then it occurred to him: had she been trying to ask him to Hogsmeade alone?

Like a _date_?

Harry ran after her. "Hermione, wait!"

She shook her head. "I get it, Harry."

"No, it wasn't- I didn't get what you were-"

She sighed, then turned around to face him. "Don't make excuses. I heard what I heard, and I understand, so can we forget it ever happened? Please?"

Harry just stared at her, noticing for the first time that her hair was unusually sleek and straight, that her always-full bag of books had been replaced with a small lavender-colored one, that her lips were pink and soft-looking.

"I- Hermione..."

With a sad smile, she returned his gaze, but it was like she was looking through him. "What?"

"D'you- d'you want to go to Hogsmeade? With me?"

There was a moment of silence when nobody spoke, and then Hermione, with the most pained expression he'd ever seen, said:

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Harry saw her, saw her shrink away in disappointment, and he thought for a second that he'd made the worst mistake of his life. "No, really," he pushed. "I really mean it."

A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Harry saw her look over his shoulders, and almost turned around, but then refocused. Her eyes were bright again, and the tears that had dotted her cheeks were gone.

Hermione stood on her toes, put a hand around his shoulder - Harry started to say, "What-?" - but then she pressed her lips to his, pulling away after a second or two (he couldn't tell how much time had passed) - and before he knew it, she was gone. A lingering voice in his head whispered, _I'll be right back_...

Harry turned around, dazed, and he could have sworn he saw Ginny and Luna giggling as they turned a corner and ran out of sight.

He stood there, alone, for a minute or two, then unfroze himself and hurried back to the dormitories, ignoring the hunger pangs that had turned into quivers of nervous excitement.

He had a date to get ready for.


	4. HermioneSirius

Day 4: Write about a story that includes the line: "Why do I let you talk me into these things?"

* * *

 **4**

 **Hermione/Sirius**

 **"Motorcycle"**

* * *

"I promise, you'll love it, doll," he said, smooth as ever.

Hermione was ready to die. " _Shhhh_ ," she whispered, covering his mouth with a smooth hand, nails painted pink. "I've got to go, I said I'd meet a friend at the pub and I'm already late-"

He grinned. "I guess you'll have to be a little later."

Before she knew it, the man she only knew as Black Star had hoisted her onto the bike behind him, fastened a helmet over her head, and pulled her arms around his waist.

"Wait a minute-"

"Hold on tight!" he called, and then his bike took flight.

* * *

Hermione gasped as they landed. His hair was windswept, and she knew hers would be a mess under the helmet, but she didn't care. The view of London was more incredible than her wildest dreams, yet she couldn't keep her eyes off him.

"How did you-?" she started, eyes wide, then tried again. "We were _flying_!"

He snapped his fingers. "Magic."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why do I let you talk me into these things?" she murmured.

"Less talking, more kissing."

* * *

And, like every night, they said goodbye under a lamppost, on an otherwise dark path by the river.

"I wish I could stay with you all night," she whispered, brushing her fingers along the crease of his lip. "But it's all right, as long as I see you again tomorrow." She dug into her purse, then pulled out a small wad of cash. "That should be enough for tonight, although I don't know if it covers magical motorcycle rides," she said with a laugh.

He smiled at her, gently pushing her hand away. "Not tonight."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean that tonight was all me. I know what my job means, but I don't want us to end every night like this - like some kind of impersonal trade."

"I- I don't know what to say." Hermione opened her mouth and closed it a few times before continuing. "Do you want me to stop coming to see you?"

"No, no, that's not it," he assured her. "Hermione... I have feelings for you."

He looked weak, suddenly - not in control.

"Why... I do too," she whispered.

Black Star's grin returned, and before she knew it, he had discarded the black bow tie that his manager made him wear.

"Do you like Shakespeare?" he asked, in between new attacks on her lips.

She rolled her eyes. "Is this a cheesy chat-up line or someth-?"

He interrupted, pretending he hadn't heard. " _Ahem_! ...Because for you I would write a sonnet of our gasps and moans."

"That's the worst line I've ever heard," she said, blushing, but he put a finger to her lips.

"But you liked it," he teased.

"Unfortunately, yes."

He winked at her. "Well, then, let's take another ride on my motorcycle."

"...Oh, shut up, you."


	5. HermioneLuna

Day 5: Write about a character succeeding in something, (can be big or small).

* * *

 **5**

 **Hermione/Luna**

 **"Mistletoe"**

* * *

Mistletoe was a funny thing. So dainty and pretty, yet so mysterious.

Angling her body towards the mirror, Luna gently pulled her ear so that her piercing was visible, and put on her favorite dangling earrings one at a time. She was already dressed for the party, of course, but it was the little touches that made an ensemble feel special. She wanted everything to be lovely for tonight—after all, it was her first fancy-dress party, and she wanted to make a good impression on the people there.

She met Harry in the hallway, and they walked into Slughorn's office together. The space was dazzling, transformed into a large room with ornate hangings draped across the ceilings and down all the walls.

"Do you know anyone here?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder. "Ugh—that's Cormac McLaggen. Don't look. Apparently Hermione's here with him."

She waited a moment, then looked. Among the dozens of guests, McLaggen stood out like a sore thumb, being exceedingly tall, and the only one with a certain sort of self-satisfied smirk. "Oh."

"What?" asked Harry, still dinteracted by the other guests.

"Well, Hermione didn't tell me she was coming," Luna said. "I didn't know, that's all."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, she only told me yesterday. Ron's not happy about it."

"Yes, I would imagine."

They walked about together, Harry constantly evading the gaze of both Professor Slughorn and his friends. Luna thought it tiresome, after a while—all the hiding and pretending to talk. She wasn't having much fun, although she would never say it.

"I'm going to the bathroom," said Harry suddenly, whipping his head around to look at Luna. He started backing away, flipping his head behind him as if checking to make sure that someone was—or wasn't—there.

"Okay," she replied, but she was talking to nobody. A house-elf chirped at her, asking if she wanted drinks, but Luna smiled and shook her head. She gazed upwards, eyes catching sight of a small sprig of mistletoe.

That's when Hermione appeared, looking disgusted and horrified at the same time. "How _dare_ he! That rotten—"

"I didn't know you would be here," Luna interupted softly, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Well, until Harry told me. I'm very sorry about McLaggen. You obviously don't like him. You look beautiful, by the way."

Hermione stopped short. "You're here with Harry?"

"Yes, didn't he tell you he was taking me?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't know—oh, wow—"

Luna got the impression that she'd miscommunicated something. "We're here as friends," she offered.

Something in Hermione's expression righted itself, and the hands she had been holding stiffly by her sides relaxed. "Oh, of course—I don't know what I was thinking." The brunette shook her head, hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry, it's been a bad night. I'm just being stupid and jealous. I'm as bad as Ron."

"If you were as bad as anyone, then why would I be talking to you?"

"Maybe you're bored. I'm so _boring_ to talk to _,_ all _books_ and _numbers._ "

"Of course not," Luna said, trying her hardest to calm Hermione down. But nothing was working, and she was becoming frightened. "You're brilliant, and wonderful, and I could be off with Harry right now, but I'm here with you."

"Maybe Harry's off copping a feel from some girl under the mistletoe. That's what all boys are like, right?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Hermione, did Cormac McLaggen do something?"

She shook her head. "But I had some mead. He—he might have put something in it."

"All right, I'm taking you out of here," she said, determined, and very much concerned. Hermione's face was crumbled, and tears were coming to her eyes.

"It's all ruined," the girl said, and that's when Luna knew for sure that her mistletoe thoughts from earlier were off the table.

"Come on, let's go," she whispered, mouth to Hermione's ear, and together they made their way out of the party, into the comparatively shadowed corridor.

She'd made it under the mistletoe. It might not have been magical, but Hermione was more important. Luna knew it with all her heart.

"I'll walk you back to Gryffindor tower," she promised, trying her hardest to smile.


	6. HermioneNeville

Day 6: Write about a character who spends the day in Diagon Alley.

* * *

 **6**

 **Hermione/Neville**

 **"Colors"**

* * *

"You're all red and white," he said, wrapping his arm around her to share the warmth of his moleskine coat. She enjoyed the feeling of him holding them together and shielding her from the frosty air.

"I wouldn't talk... you're paler than me," she teased.

"Like a candy cane." His hazel eyes gazed at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the world—yet _she_ felt like the lucky one.

A voice in the distance was calling their names. "Hermione! Neville!"

" _Tom_! It's been years—how are you? How's the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Better now. Come in, you two."


	7. HermioneJames

Day 7: Write about a character who stands out.

* * *

 **7**

 **Hermione/James**

 **"Kiss"**

* * *

"Hermione," he began.

"Since the day I met you, I knew you were something special, but if it wasn't for these idiots over here-"

He pointed at Sirius, who was grinning so broadly his mouth was about to split open, and Remus, who was doing his best to shoot daggers at his boyfriend. James noticed Remus's mouth moving in some sort of desperate prayer against the inevitable.

"-I wouldn't have had the Gryffindor courage to go through with my dream of asking you out. So... thanks."

The crowd cheered and whistled until James held up his hand again, silencing the room.

"Yeah. But let's go into the story of how I met Hermione, because that's a good one."

James ignored the way his bride's face turned pale behind her veil, continuing in a typical dramatic fashion.

"It was a while ago; I can't remember exactly when—" James lowered his voice. "No, kidding, it was March 24, 1978. Let's be honest, I'll never forget that day.

"She was there, suddenly, appearing out of nowhere, and I almost screamed bloody murder, because that's how scared I was. But when I got a good look at her, I realized something. She was beautiful, even more beautiful as I was handsome. I couldn't help but talk to her—well, torture every last detail about herself out of her brilliant, maddening head."

James paused. "This is probably getting off topic."

Ignoring Hermione's silent pleas for mercy, he kept going.

"She told me a few things, but mainly she said she needed to visit the Hospital Wing, because— _time travel_ and all, although she didn't say that at the time—so I relented."

Despite looking like she was settling into the story, Hermione raised her eyebrows at this.

"But after she was recovered, and became part of the seventh year, I was consumed by this crazy desire to get to know her. To talk to her all I could, and never leave her side."

Sirius snorted loudly from the front row, and James laughed with him. "I know. That's very surprising. Me being obsessed with a girl." He quickly became serious again. "But that's not the point."

Clearing his throat, he cracked a smile, this one a lot more nervous-looking than before. "The point is, Hermione is someone I had an instant connection to, someone I instantly trusted and adored. And every second I spent with her was one more second that left me convinced in our destiny to be together."

"Hermione, you're smart. _Merlin_ , you're clever. You're beautiful. Captivating. And you're independent, so independent I'm sometimes afraid that you'll be better than me at everything you do. You probably will."

James adjusted his glasses, looking her in the eye as he addressed her directly for the first time. "But I can give things to you as well. I will love you forever, as long as we live, and I can't imagine it being another way."

Smiling, he broke into a grin again as the crowd began to clap and holler from their seats.

Hermione whispered something to him, but she covered her lips with a gloved hand, so no one but James ever learned what she said that day.

"Are you finished with your vows?" asked the officiator dryly.

"Yep." James clasped hands with Hermione, holding on tight, and bracing himself for a shock of magic. It was indeed powerful—the Vow jolted through his entire body, stemming out of their friend's wand and into the ground—but there was no pain, only love. A happy, hopefully-not-breakable Vow.

"I do," they said, as the rings appeared out of nothing and slipped onto their fingers.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Hermione, who had stayed quiet during James's earlier antics, saw this as the last straw.

"Oh, no way," she said, and grabbed him with one hand, pulling him towards her for their first—married—kiss.


	8. HermioneRon

Day 8: Write about something canon in the Harry Potter series, but it being in the eyes of someone else.

* * *

 **8**

 **Hermione/Ron**

 **"Chamber"**

* * *

Breathless, she stood next to Ron, listening to him tell Harry about their spontaneous visit to the Chamber, and occasionally cutting in to emphasize Ron's role in their success. He _had_ been incredible, _amazing_ , in fact, and it was all so sudden—

"Hang on a moment!" Ron said, gesturing at her and Harry with urgency. "We've forgotten someone!"

"Who?" she asked, suddenly panicked. Her mind ran down a list of names—the people they'd been protecting and thinking about for months—but no one came to mind, making Hermione petrified that they'd actually _left someone behind_ —

"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"

Her mind couldn't process his words, somehow, and she found herself saying the syllables over and over in her head—like when she fell asleep reading the same sentence out of a book. The repetition did nothing.

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" Harry asked. Hermione could only begin to curl her fingers into fists before the response:

"No," said Ron seriously, "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want any more Dobbies, do we? We can't order them to die for us-"

And then—despite the intensity they'd felt together in the Chamber of Secrets, when she'd lifted the fang over her head and plunged it into the golden cup, and looked at Ron's face to see pride and admiration brimming out of him—she felt something even greater, something akin to love, and it took hold of her for the few milliseconds it took for her to wrap her arms around Ron and kiss him straight on the mouth.

He was probably as surprised as she was, and Hermione instantly thought, _Oh god, I've made a terrible mistake_ , but quickly those panicked thoughts melted away, and all she could think of was him.

Besides the physical sensations, which Hermione wasn't keen to ignore, there was the sheer shock of the situation—she was kissing _Ron_.

He was the idiot, the moron, the boy with no _sense_ , the boy who made fun of her strange tendencies, the boy who ignored her in favor of another girl... But he was also the boy who became her friend, the boy who defended her against the world, the boy who slept with his hand touching hers, the boy who cried when she was tortured...

The kiss deepened as Ron's hands found their way to her back, holding her tightly as their heads tilted to fit together. Wrapping her fingers in his hair, she tasted the sweat on his lips and breathed in the musky, smell of him: that shampoo she'd always liked.

"Is this the moment?" came Harry's voice, an unpleasant reminder of what was going on in the real world.

She ignored it.

"OI! There's a war going on here!"

Hermione finally broke away from Ron, gasping, and looked away from both of them, but she couldn't keep a blush from warming her face.

"I know, mate," Ron managed to say, despite his dropped jaw and wild eyes giving the appearance of a person Confunded. "So it's now or never, isn't it?"

"Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?" Harry yelled at them, snapping Hermione back into focus. Still blushing and feeling a numbness on her lips, she let go of the _incredible_ moment that had just happened to her, and listened to her friend. "D'you think you could just - just hold it in until we've got the diadem?"

"Yeah - right - sorry," said Ron, reaching down to pick up the basilisk fangs he had dropped when Hermione flung herself at him.

Bending down to help him, she met his eyes, which were blinking rapidly.

"Thanks," she told him, and promptly straightened, following Harry towards the sounds of fighting.

She had a battle to win.


	9. HermioneTheo

Day 9: Write about a character who has someone comfort them.

* * *

 **9**

 **Hermione/Theo**

 **"Library"**

* * *

"Hey," he said, moving a stack of books off a chair onto the table. With the space now available, Theodore Nott sat down beside her.

"What," she muttered. It wasn't even a question. "I'm working, so please go away." Eyes flicking down to her blank parchment, she waited for a few seconds before realizing that he hadn't moved.

He inched closer. "You want to tell me what's going on with you?"

"There's _nothing_ going on with me, so if you wouldn't mind leaving-"

" _Hermione_ ," he said, in a strangely gentle tone. "I know what happened. It was pretty obvious when you two stopped talking. Do you want to talk about it?"

She finally met his steady gaze, blinking rapidly to keep her face dry. It wasn't his business - he was a _Slytherin_ , for Merlin's sake - but somehow Hermione found herself opening up to this persistent, eloquent boy.

"No, I don't want to talk about it. It's over, done, and that's that. I just wish-" She closed her eyes. "I wish I had never trusted him. The second I looked away, he was there with Lavender, and her saying ' _Won-Won'_ with that stupid voice!"

Theo rolled his eyes. "If it helps, no one in my house is attracted to her. We call her an attention-seeking puffball."

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Sounds like Umbridge," she whispered shakily.

He laughed too, checking his back to see if Madam Pince was watching, and then winking at her. "It may seem awful, but I promise, you'll forget about him soon enough, once you realize there are better choices than cheating scum. You deserve better, Hermione."

Looking at him again, she swallowed and spoke. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to see anyone else yet... I mean, it was so _recent_."

"Of course not," he replied, shaking his head. "You need time."

"But if you want to study together sometime..."

"That'd be great," said Theo, grinning again. He slid out of his chair and picked up his book bag off the floor. "Later, Hermione."

In just seconds, he was gone, having turned the corner and disappeared into the stacks. Hermione blinked twice, then settled back into her work. This potions essay was the most complicated one they'd been assigned all year, and she hadn't had a chance to start, due to recent events...

Work would clear her head.


	10. HermioneDraco

Day 10: Write about a character who gets back up after failing.

* * *

 **10**

 **Hermione/Draco**

 **"Properly"**

* * *

"I got an Acceptable on my essay," she said, frowning. "They shouldn't call it that, not when it's barely a passing score."

"Father was pleased to hear about _my_ grade," Draco said with a smirk. It soon faded as he noticed her expression. "Oh, let it go. You'll always beat me in the end. Let me have my win."

"That's easy for you to say," she grumbled.

"Easy for you when you were in my place." He moved closer, giving her a short, teasing kiss, and then pulling away. "Don't get all worked up. I prefer when you're hot and bothered over _me_."

"This is not the time, Draco," she said, pushing him away with one hand. But he dodged the hand and wrapped an arm around her, leaning in to kiss her neck. "Hey!" she said lightly, evading him. But his ministrations won over, and she giggled like a little girl, feeling the light brush of his lips tickling her skin. "Stopit!"

"You sure about that?" he asked, tilting his head up to look at her and raising his eyebrows. "Sure, I'll stop." Draco leaned away dramatically, keeping eye contact as he did. "Better now?"

"No, don't," she said, instantly missing his warmth. Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled it around her neck. "Kiss me properly."

"I won't say no to that," he quipped, pulling her in for a hungry kiss.

.oOo.

Later that night, he turned towards her with a curious expression. "You're not that upset about your mark, are you?"

She ran a hand through her hair, thinking. "I was, but... not anymore. Not really."

"I'm glad to hear that. And, I suppose you'll beat me next time, _Granger_?"

"I'll be sure of it, _Malfoy_."


	11. HermioneOC

Day 11: Write about a character's childhood. (Before Hogwarts).

* * *

 **11**

 **Hermione/OC**

 **"Books"**

* * *

 _Ten minutes_

Hermione turned the page in her book, snuggling deeper into her armchair. Her legs were wrapped in a fuzzy brown blanket, and she had pulled it as close to her chin as she could, so that she probably looked (to her parents) like a dead caterpillar—one with frizzy brown hair to match.

 _Nine minutes_

There were voices talking quickly downstairs, and a few pans clattering about, but Hermione turned another page, intent on finishing another few chapters before dinner.

...Or was it lunch?

She'd been seated there awhile, although there was no clock in sight to prove it one way or another. Hermione blinked hard and settled back into the story.

 _Eight minutes_

Yes, there definitely something going on downstairs.

 _Seven minutes_

The story was rather disappointing, she decided. It was all too predictable: fun introduction, then a huge problem emerged, then it was solved. Could no children's author think of anything worth reading? Hermione blamed it on the school. They didn't even believe her when she said that she wanted more than two books to bring home at once, so why would they understand what _sort_ of books she wanted?

Now this was something she could really do, something that would change the world. Well, maybe just the elementary school.

 _Six minutes_

Mum was heading up the stairs, coming right towards her bedroom door. Funny how footsteps sounded different for different people—just a bit heavier, a bit quicker, and it made all the difference.

 _Five minutes_

"Hermione Jean, they'll be here any minute now. Come help me with the vaccuum—your father broke a plate, and I don't want you or Jacob to hurt your feet."

"Who's Jacob?"

"You know him. The Willing boy."

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do. You met their whole family last summer—oh, if you _have_ forgotten them, please don't let on. It would be embarrassing."

 _Four minutes_

Jacob Willing. Who named their family Willing? It sounded like they were describing themselves, or something; only, it was part of their name and they couldn't change it.

Could somebody change their last name?

 _Three minutes_

"Hermione!"

"I'm coming!"

 _Two minutes_

She scrambled out of the chair, brushing bits of fuzz from the blanket off her sweater, and hurried downstairs to meet Mum and Dad in the sitting room.

"Sorry, I was reading," she said. It was her most common excuse, and the one that her parents most expected, because books put her inside her own head more than anything else, and they knew that. But instead of laughing about it, Mum just nodded absently and handed her a pile of napkins.

"Put them on the table, please, dear."

Hermione took the napkins and turned to speak again. "Are we eating with you? Me and Jacob?"

Mum paused. "I'm sorry, but this is a grown-up sort of evening. Maybe you two could play or talk together in your room?"

 _One minute_

Hermione finished the last place setting, then quickly looked up when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" she called, then raced into the entryway, her socks slipping on the kitchen's freshly mopped tile floor.

She opened the door, greeting the two adults politely, and then peering around them to see if this Jacob was there. He was nowhere to be found, but then a boy's face appeared from past the bushes in the front garden.

"Hi!" he called, smiling at her as he caught up to his parents. "Are you Hermione?"

. . . . .

"Er... Do you like books?" she said, unsure of where to start. They'd gotten upstairs all right, but once the general hubbub had calmed down, Hermione realized that she had absolutely no idea to talk to boys. Well, this boy.

Hermione had never seen anybody with such blue eyes before.

"Do _you_?" he answered, firing the same question back at her.

She hesitated. "Well, of course—have you seen this room? It's absolutely full of them."

Jacob's eyes wandered around, taking in the walls and walls of bookshelves that completely overwhelmed her modest dresser and bunk beds. He grinned toothily. "Good answer. I love them."

That's when Hermione knew that her afternoon of reading was _not_ ruined, and that things with Jacob would be... just fine.


	12. HermioneLee

Day 12: Write about a character getting their pet for Hogwarts.

* * *

 **12**

 **Hermione/Lee**

 **"Menagerie"**

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the Magical Menagerie, clutching her unruly—but gorgeous—new pet. Moments later, Crookshanks leapt out of her arms, landing cleanly on all fours. The cat turned its head to glance at her, perhaps waiting for some sort of challenge from his owner, but none came. Hermione just smiled, rubbing his fur and packing her money purse into her bag.

"You're beautiful, Crookshanks! I can't imagine why nobody wanted you befo—"

Suddenly, claws scraped against her ankle, causing Hermione to yelp in pain and drop her bag onto the ground. Her cat was already halfway down the street, and accelerating.

"Wait, stop!" she called, standing stock-still as her mind searched for a spell that could help. But not a single professor had ever mentioned a charm to recover runaway felines.

Hermione had been sprinting after the misbehaving creature for a few minutes, to no avail, when a boy blocked her path. Not noticing his face, Hermione pushed past him, following the trail of destruction left by her cat—but it had stopped. A brick wall met her palm, and she realized that she was standing at the end of a dark, wide alleyway.

" _Now_ where did you go?" she muttered, whirling around and squinting her eyes in an effort to see in the gloom. It was the mid-afternoon, but somehow all the light had been sucked out of that alley.

Finally, she turned back to the way she had come, knowing that her cat was nowhere to be found in this gloomy corner. Crookshanks hadn't disappeared. He must have slipped past her in the dark.

As Hermione stepped forward, a pair of eyes flashed in front of her, and she stifled a scream. " _Ahhhh_!— What was that?!"

" _Ahh_!" cried the owner of the eyes.

It took her a solid ten seconds to realize that the eyes were human, not feline, and they belonged to the boy from before. It was Lee Jordan, Fred and George's friend, and he was holding Crookshanks in his arms.

" _Ohhh_ ," he said, letting out a breath. "Hey there, Hermione. Is this guy yours?"

Sighing in relief, Hermione nodded, accepting the bundle of claw and fur that he held out towards her. More suspicious now than anything else, she asked, "Wait, what are _you_ doing here?"

Lee's eyes shifted back and forth, not meeting hers. "Nothing."

"Sure. Well, thanks for saving my cat. He's a beauty—I'd hate to lose him—wouldn't you?"

Raising his eyebrows, Lee stared at Crookshanks' struggling form, and then back at Hermione. He shrugged. "Not really a cat person, myself."

"Oh, do you like owls better, then?"

He grinned. "Spiders, actually."

"Why that's... unusual," she said, letting her mouth drop open in surprise. "Although, not for you, I'd expect."

"I dabble in many things. Many of which you would call unusual."

"Try me!"

He was already taller than her, but Hermione could've sworn Lee Jordan grew an extra foot after she made that sudden remark. "I mean, you don't have to," she said, trying to undo whatever damage she'd created in talking to this fascinating boy. "I get it, you're brilliant. And a troublemaker."

"Brilliant?" he repeated. "Thanks a lot, coming from you. And don't backtrack. I'm interested to see where this is going, Hermione."

Hermione stalled, pretending to wipe dirt off Crookshanks' fur. Finally, she looked back at him with all the bravery she could muster. "All right then. Meet me at school sometime. In Gryffindor Tower."

Lee smiled easily at her. "Sure."

Hermione blinked. Was that all it took? "Okay," she said, waiting for him to admit that it was all a joke, that he had no interest in spending any time with a strange, bookish third-year girl.

"Okay."

He _didn't_.

Hermione paused again, then let a smile appear over her own face. "Bring your tarantula," she qupped, before dashing away down the alley, back towards the Menagerie that started it all.


	13. HermioneFredGeorge

Day 13: Write about a character doing something that's out of their comfort zone.

* * *

 **13**

 **Hermione/Fred/George**

 **"Bet"**

* * *

"Hermione," said one of the twins—honestly, she had no idea which—with a tone that sounded like he wanted something. She hadn't heard anyone enter, but there was no mistaking the sound of a Weasley man in his own house. As a whole, they were a little more confident, and a little more willing to walk in on people in the shower. (Thank Merlin that had been a one-time occasion.)

On second thought, the careful tone also could have been an effort to delay her inevitable rage in response to one of their ridiculous, brilliant plots.

"Yeah, _Hermione_ ," said the other. (Now, she could tell the first had been Fred.) He glanced meaningfully at his twin.

"What is it?" she replied with an exaggerated groan. "Do I want to know?"

George grinned. "Nah, we're just messing with you. It's nothing, really."

Hermione relaxed, sucking in a breath and pushing it out again. She stood up, pulling her hair out of its plait, letting it fall free in messy waves. "So, what is it, then? I'm busy."

"Well," said Fred, "since you asked so nicely... George and I made a bet."

"About Ron and Lavender's relationship?" she said dryly. "Put me down for two weeks, tops." Plopping herself down on the sofa, she continued to untangle her hair, pretending that the twins weren't in the room.

"Actually, that's wasn't it—but now you've given us a very good idea."

"Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem," she said, looking up only to roll her eyes.

"But really, the bet was about you," Fred told her. "Now, I'm not a betting man—"

"Yes, you definitely are," Hermione interjected again. "Remember the World Cup? Ludo Bagman?"

"Not the point."

George went in for a new attack, talking smoothly and softly so that she had to stend up and move closer to him to hear properly. "We heard, in our many travels, that there are only two Hogwarts girls above fifth year who haven't been kissed. Well, I bet on Luna Lovegood immediately, because she's too much of a dreamer to get much action. But George and I wondered who the other one was... until very recently."

Hermione stared, a blush forming on her cheeks. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with us, Hermione. We have good sources."

Her face, stiff and panicked, broke, and she glared outright at them. "Ginny told you?!"

Fred frowned. "We overheard you two talking. No extendable ears, no nothing."

"Meanwhile, I heard some things about my sister that I didn't want to know..." George muttered.

"Shut up!" Hermione exclaimed. "You had no right to listen in on a private conversation! I—I can't believe you!" She could tell her face was turning red—nearly as red as the boys' hair, she imagined.

The twins had the decency to look sheepish, but just for a moment or two.

"Then we'd like to amend that," George said swiftly, glancing at Fred. And without any time for her to react, Hermione saw his eyes flick to her lips and back. Before she could protest, he pressed his mouth to hers, capturing her in a rough kiss.


	14. HermioneGinny

Day 14: Write about a character finding out something unexpected. (Can be about themself or someone else).

* * *

 **14**

 **Hermione/Ginny**

 **"Gryffindor"**

* * *

Fact: Ginny likes boys.

I've known this forever, of course. Even before she became the good-looking, fiery Gryffindor, she was head-over-heels for Harry. No one's forgotten how she stared at him in her first year and blushed whenever he walked by.

This truth is made particularly obvious as she regales me with stories about Dean Thomas and Michael Corner—mostly embarrassing for them, but that's Ginny's style. She'll love you one day, hate you the next, and maybe laugh about it in a few years. If she's gotten her revenge, that is.

"So?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. "Got anyone on your mind lately?"

I hesitate. "Nice try," I say, trying to sound casual. "You know I don't, and besides, I wouldn't tell you if I did!"

She crosses her arms, pretending to pout. "I'm hurt."

"It's not that I don't trust you," I promise. "I just don't know. There's so many people, and I'm so busy, and..." I pause, knowing that more rambling won't help me end this conversation. "What were you saying about Dean?"

She laughs. "Don't try to change the subject! Now you've just made me want to keep asking!" Her eyes are bright, and she narrows them for dramatic effect, leaning towards me. "So, who is it?"

"I said, nobody."

"A studly Hufflepuff? A brainy Ravenclaw boy?"

I roll my eyes. " _No_ ," I say, mostly to protest the use of 'studly,' but all it does is encourage her.

"Ooh! Is he a Slytherin?"

"If I don't answer, will you assume the answer is yes?" I ask. The last thing I want is more rumors about me and Draco Malfoy, and I suspect that Ginny had something to do with those.

"Nah, I don't think your guy is a snake. You're too house-loyal." She sees my confused expression and quickly corrects herself. "Oh, it's not a bad thing. I think Gryffindors are great, too. If all my brothers weren't in this house, maybe there'd be more people to choose from."

"People?"

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, Ginny is guarded. "You know—boys. I don't know why I said people."

"Right," I say. I try to laugh, but it comes out as a cough. There's a strange feeling in my stomach, and I don't know why it's there. What has changed? Why is it so quiet?

"Hermione," she says, in a small voice. "The person you like—because I know there's someone. That person... Well, is she a girl?"

I swallow hard. "Yes," I whisper, and immediately after, I'm silently cursing myself. Why did I just admit to that?

"Is she a Gryffindor?" Ginny presses.

I can't answer. I don't. So instead I flip it back on her, asking, "What about you?"

She's temporarily distracted. "Who says I like anyone?"

"Who says you don't?"

Ginny's mouth falls open. My heart is pounding in my chest, partly out of nervousness and partly something else.

"Okay," she whispers. "How about this."

Her hair shines in the firelight, brighter than the sparks spit out by the flames. She leans in to kiss me, and in that moment, I'm frozen, unable to move, but the warmth of her lips is enough so that I can kiss her back, feeling her hands on my neck and knowing that there is nothing else in my awareness but her.

Fact: Ginny likes girls, too.


	15. HermioneBlaise

Day 15: Write about a character celebrating a Holiday.

* * *

 **15**

 **Hermione/Blaise**

 **"Warmth"**

* * *

"You didn't have to invite me over," she told him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his warm, comforting body. It was a miracle that he could radiate so much heat while wearing just a dress shirt and trousers. Personally, she had on a fancy sweaterdress and tights, yet she was still approaching icicle status. "But thanks, I've loved it."

"Of course I had to. What would my family say if the girl I've spoken so much about never showed up?" he replied teasingly. "They'd call me a liar."

Hermione slowly sat up, running her hand across his back and stroking his hair. "Well, your mother wouldn't mind. She hardly noticed me at dinner." She felt him sigh, and instantly pulled away, regretting her words. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that!"

"It's not your fault," he said. "She left early to go out. She does it all the time. I mean, I'm sure you being there didn't help the situation, but it was hopeless anyway. I shouldn't have expected my family to treat you right. They'll never change."

She looked him in the eye and squeezed his hand. "They _can_ change. We just have to give them time, that's all."

"Hermione, I've been waiting my whole life for something around here to get better," he said, troubled. "It never does. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for us."

"Yes you can," she said, taking his hand again. "You can help me make this Christmas the best one we've ever had—together or apart."

That made him smile. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured, burying her face in his chest.


	16. HermioneFleur

Day 16: Write about a character that was accused of something that wasn't true. (Can be something small or big).

* * *

 **16**

 **Hermione/Fleur**

 **"Packing"**

* * *

"Hey," she said, tapping the door a few times with her knuckles and waiting for a response. "Fleur? It's Hermione."

"Oh, come in. I am just packing my zings for ze honeymoon," rang the young woman's voice from the bedroom. Hermione closed the door behind her, making quick eye contact and then directing her gaze to the pile of clothes being sorted. It was good that she did, because she immediately blushed after noticing Fleur's attire: a silk pyjama top and soft, flowing shorts.

"I'm sorry, were you going to bed? I can talk to you tomorrow, whenever is best for you, really," she said hurriedly, backing up towards the door. It bumped against her back, closing partway, which dulled the noise from downstairs to a continuous murmur.

Fleur smiled, shaking her head at Hermione. "No, Bill is staying up late tonight, I expect. 'E is always busy, always working for ze Gringotts bank. It tires me sometimes, but I would never be in 'is way."

"Oh," she said. "Good."

Fleur just gazed back, clearly ignoring the nervous tinge to Hermione's voice. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I..." she began. "I wanted to apologize, in case you didn't know, or hated me, or something—about the way Ginny and I have treated you. She spoke poorly of you, and it wasn't at all deserved. We should have been more welcoming." Hermione looked down at her feet. How could she explain what she felt without sounding like a child?

"Zat is nothing. Ginny is young, you are not her."

"If Ginny is young, aren't I just as young?" Hermione said hopelessly.

"No," Fleur insisted. "You are different zan her—I cannot say 'ow, but you are."

She floated a stack of folded blouses into her bag, then tossed her wand on top and moved to sit next to Hermione on the edge of the bed.

"Fleur, I don't want you to get married," Hermione blurted. She covered her mouth with a hand, but the words were already out.

"Why is zat?" Fleur replied softly.

"Because..." Hermione's eyes filled with tears that she urgently tried to blink away. "Because I have feelings of my own."

The bride-to-be smiled. "Zat does not surprise me. I know what it is like to be unhappy where you are."

"So you won't mind if I..."

Hermione, acting with no sense or regard for self-preservation, kissed Fleur on the lips. She was about to pull away, find some way to excuse her horrible mistake, but Fleur began to kiss her back, making it impossible for her to leave.

They broke apart after some amount of time—Hermione had no idea—Fleur looking incredibly guilty, but almost... pleased.

"You have to go, 'Ermione," she whispered, but her lips caught Hermione's cheek before the younger girl stumbled out of the room, looking back into the bedroom, where Fleur sat on the bed, hand to her own lips.

The next morning, Hermione snuck out of the house before even Mrs. Weasley woke, taking her space-stretching beaded handbag and all its contents, but nothing more.

She couldn't bear to watch the ceremony.


	17. HermioneCedric

Day 17: Write about a ghost at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **17**

 **Hermione/Cedric**

 **"Ghost"**

* * *

"You're here," she murmured, gazing at his translucent form.

The room was empty besides the pair of them, but Hermione felt a need to whisper, as if she was dealing in secrets. A cold breeze blew from the corridor, so she drew her cloak tighter around her nightgown, shivering.

"I didn't think you would come," he replied, giving her a smile that was too hollow to be lifelike.

"I- I never thought you would choose this," she said, walking closer to him. Hermione's reached out a hand to the blurry outline of him, and looked up, silently asking for approval. He nodded, so she slowly sank her fingers into where his arm should be—but felt nothing at all, not even the cold, wet texture that the other Hogwarts ghosts had to them.

"They say it's because I'm new. That all new ghosts go through this, a time when they cease to exist in the physical world at all, except for a small outline." His face seemed to shrink back, deep into his skull. "But I think it's because of Voldemort. He sucks away everything he touches, including my only second chance at helping people."

"Voldemort?" she repeated, saying the word clearly with only the slightest hesitance. If Cedric was brave enough to call his killer by name, then so could she. "Oh, _Cedric_ —"

Tears filled her eyes. Here was this beautiful, kind boy—reduced to an afterimage, barely there at all—who deserved none of what he got. There was nothing she could do.

Hermione moved forwards again, throwing her arms around his faint outline, but there was nothing to hold, and she collapsed into a seated position on the floor, tears stinging her cheeks. "I'm sorry—"

He sat down in front of her, reaching out a ghostly hand to touch her shoulder, but of course, she felt nothing. Gritting her teeth, she blinked hard, and shook her head. "It's fine—this is your world now, and you're so calm, and here I am making it about me."

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault, what happened to me, Hermione. It's no one's fault except Voldemort, and I will help you fight him until they exorcize me away," he said lightly.

She looked up at him, surprise crossing her face amidst the teardrops and pale skin. "Is that something that could happen?"

He smiled at her, the corners of his mouth turning up despite the somber mood. "No- No, I was kidding."

"Good," she said, touching the edge of his ghostly form one last time.

But this time, instead of denying her access to his skin, his clothes, she felt the smallest of sensations against her fingertips, like a soft breeze touching them. Then, there was warmth.

"I feel you," she whispered, smiling back at him. "Cedric, I can feel you in front of me."

He stared at her, happiness turning his clear features into warm ones, as she traced his outline in the empty room.


	18. HermioneLily

Day 18: Write about a character making a scene.

* * *

 **18**

 **Hermione/Lily**

 **"Nice"**

* * *

Hermione watched her girlfriend stride towards the counter, greet the cashier in her polite, cheery voice, and pile change into her purse while balancing a tray full of coffees and muffins.

"Here's a tip for you!" Lily said cheerily, stuffing a five pound note into the man's hand before nodding goodbye and gliding back to the table where she was waiting.

"Thanks," Hermione said, picking up a muffin and coffee, one in each hand. Sipping the drink, she leaned closer to Lily. "You didn't have to do that, you know. It's not exceptional service; we're just getting breakfast."

"Doesn't hurt to be nice, does it?" Lily replied, using a tone that told Hermione _she_ ought to be nicer herself.

"I'm just saying, it also wouldn't hurt to save a little money here and there. That guy makes enough of a wage; he doesn't need tips. He doesn't do service, and besides, we need money."

Lily wiped a crumb from her lip and set down her own muffin. Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know what your problem is today. I was just being nice. Is money the only thing you care about?"

"No, but one of us has to act like a reasonable, careful adult, and if that's not going to be you, it has to be me!"

"Who says I'm not reasonable? I'm perfectly reasonable— _James Potter_ thinks so—and anyhow, since when do you get to call me out of line?!" Lily's voice rang out in the gradually quieting shop, and her pitch became higher, more defensive. Hermione knew that they were being watched, and she glared at the wall before returning her gaze to Lily. Oh, Lily.

"I'm just saying that maybe... sometimes... you're too nice. And that maybe you don't see the big picture. You and me." Hermione sighed. "You're great, don't get me wrong, but you're just _so nice_ —"

Her girlfriend snapped back, "I'd rather be _nice_ than a whiny, constantly _frightened_ old thing with a huge house full of _no friends_. God, Hermione!"

There was silence as what had just been said echoed through the room. Then, Hermione stood up, leaving her coffee on the table, and walked out.


End file.
